Revenge II
by viktriap
Summary: There's no real summary this time, because I don't want to spoil anything! If you had read the first part you can have a guess!
1. Default Chapter

Revenge II.

Two month went by since they last heard from Jack. The drawing that was made with John's help was sent to every single police department and sheriff office, all around the country and it was released on the internet amongst the pictures of most wanted criminals.

Life went back to normal again, John was working with full license, Sam and Bailey were talking about moving under one roof and the team solved nine cases successfully. To Sam's relief after their not so successful first session, John came back to her, and she learned a lot about his past. After a few weeks they became even closer friends and Sam started to understand his manners more and more. All in all everything seemed to be fine and Sam was happy.

They planned a romantic evening with Bailey for Saturday, and she was looking forward to it. As it was Friday afternoon already, she was sitting in her office over some files but to tell the truth she wasn't concentrating on her wok. She was rather daydreaming. After some more hopeless attempt she decided to go home.

In the outer office she glimpsed John at his desk and stepped to his side.

"Hey" she called to him.

He looked up at her and smiled.

"I thought there's nobody else here."

"I'm already on my way out. How long do you want to stay on a Friday evening?"

He shrugged.

"I have nothing to do at home."

"Don't you have a date or something?" After all their talking Sam realized that despite his reputation John didn't really have a wild social life.

"Not today. I'm preparing myself for Chloe." In the last months John started to babysit Chloe when Sam and Bailey wanted to spend some time alone, as Angel was often out of town because of her new project.

"She can hardly wait your evening together! What did you promise her?"

"It's our secret." He answered mysteriously.

"All right, then. Just don't spoil my twelve-years-long work!"

"Chloe is a good girl."

"Yes, I know. Then see you tomorrow! At six?"

"I'll be there."

With that Sam left and John stayed alone with his much appreciated paperwork.

--------------------------

John started his report about the perquisition yesterday, but the ringing of the phone cut it off. His irritation faded quickly when he heard the news. He made some important calls and then dialed Bailey's number.

"Bailey Malone."

"John here. I have great news."

"Shoot it."

"We have a sign of Jack. You won't believe it, but he worked as a sheriff in Otis, California. I'm sure he used a false name there but we have a photo and his fingerprints. They will have sent the file by Monday. He disappeared two weeks ago, and his deputy found the wanted-poster we sent out."

"I'll come in."

"You don't have to. I called the central and they give out the warrant. Enjoy your weekend."

After some hesitation Bailey agreed, as he could do nothing more in the office.

"I'll tell Sam! Thank you and see you tomorrow."

"Bye."

It was really good news, however they still didn't know where Jack was but they'll have more details about him and it will be easier to find him. Now he went back to typing more enthusiastically and didn't stop until it was dark outside.

----------------

After every good comes something bad, as his mother used to say. This day wasn't different at all. John was on his way home and didn't think about anything special, maybe only about his dinner that was rather overdue. The road was practically empty, the last car he saw went by five minutes ago, so he wasn't really concentrating on his driving.

When he glimpsed the dark figure on the road he had to step into the break with all his strength but could stop the car in time. He pulled over, turned on the emergency warning lights of his car, and got out.

The dark figure was a human body, a female body to be precise. _It must be a hit and run! _John went closer and bent over the body to check if she is alive or not. She was a young woman, maybe in her late twenties and was breathing, even if only hollow. When she examined her further she could establish that she wasn't overrun. She was beaten and there was a deep knife induced wound on the right side of her chest.

"That much of a quiet evening!" he said out loud and he stood up to go back to his car and call for help.

He sensed the headlights and heard the noise of the engine, but was sure that everybody can see his warning lights, and in that same moment the woman on the ground moaned so he bent over her again.

When he heard the car fastening instead of slowing down, he straightened but it was too late already. Everything happened so fast. John saw the headlights and felt the impact but then nothing and in the next moment he was lying on the concrete and watching the stars above. Something floated in his eyes – probably blood – and heard running footsteps. The driver – who else could it be? – came closer but John couldn't make out his figure, his vision went dim. He was fighting to stay awake but all his efforts were in vain. _I'll be late again, _he thought incoherently and then passed out.

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He woke up and heard a whimpering sound, but didn't even realize it came from his own mouth. It was dark. His head hurt and he didn't remember where he was. Was he blind? But then he realized that his eyes were closed. It took a lot of struggling to open them and there was not much thanks in it when he managed. The light was blinding, he felt nauseated and dizzy. He made a desperate attempt to turn and threw up, there was an awful pain in his right leg and pelvis, so that he wanted to scream but instead he just blacked out again.

His second wakening wasn't much better then the first one. He still didn't know where he was or who he was by the way and had no strength to think about it. He threw up again, mumbled some incoherent words and had a feeling that he should do something more, but he just couldn't and fell back into oblivion again.

The third time he woke up, his mind was much clearer. He was overrun by a stupid idiot. He opened his eyes and would have cursed, but only some moaning came out of his dry and sore throat. He wasn't in a hospital bed, nor in an ambulance or on the street. He was in a dark room that was lightened by a single light-bulb and was lying on stone-floor that was more than cold. When he moved he felt that his right arm was handcuffed to something and felt a sharp pain in his arm and shoulder but it was still nothing compared to the pain in his leg. He had some experience and strongly guessed that his leg was broken, somewhere around the knee, but the light wasn't enough to see it.

"I've been already afraid, that I made a too good job with you!" John heard suddenly a cheerful voice. "But I see you are awake at last."

Then the stranger turned on a flashlight and shone with it straight in John's eyes. He blinked in the sharp light, and couldn't see anything, but heard the man coming closer.

"You know I extremely hate when my plans are messed up. It doesn't happen often, though."

The man put down the torch and bent even closer, so that they were face to face. It was Jack. _Of course, who else could it be?_

"I've always thought about you as somebody who is just there, you know. Nothing important. But you saved Malone and because of you I lost my cover." He laughed out as if he had told something funny. "Actually I should thank you for that one! I was fed up with that stupid sheriff anyway and one needs some excitement in life, don't you agree?"

John didn't answer but Jack clearly didn't awaited it as he continued.

"So, I started to investigate a little bit. And I realized that you are still interesting and full of secrets. I never failed in getting somebody's files but you have some that are classified as highly confident. First, I found nothing about you under age seventeen."

John involuntary clamped his left fist. He didn't want to hear this whole sick speech but had obviously no choice.

"First, as I said. Then I found the deliverance that changed your name. O'Doyle, what? Quite a famous name, or should I say notorious?"

John made a desperate movement to pull further from the murder but the wall didn't let him.

"You are not very talkative! I brought you here to have a little chat, and we will have it, like it or not!" his voice was still rather cheerful but there was a threatening overtone in it. "Your father was sentenced for a few years. When was it? About ten years ago? When you were seventeen?"

"Go to hell…" John's voice was hoarse and weak even to his own ears.

"Oh, so you can speak after all! I thought you suffered some serious brain damage…"

Instead of saying something else John just clenched his teeth.

"I bet you knew a lot of his business. Don't you want to speak about it?"

He directed the flashlight on his face again.

"Good, but if you want some water then you have to tell me a good story. Think it over quickly because that leg doesn't look good to me."

He flashed a beam of light on the injured leg and John felt nauseated again. It was definitely broken, his knee was fractured and under it the tibia was also broken and the sharp end of it was sticking out. It really didn't look good and it was bleeding profusely.

Jack stood up and as he went out, John could see that they were in a cellar. Stairs led up at least fifteen grades and when Jack arrived on top he tossed in a door with a loud bang.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: Thank you for the reviews, especially to GrantingTroyTurner who reviews every single chapter I upload and with that she gives me a lot of inspiration. That's why I write instead of studying, but never mind... It's much more enjoyable! So to your enjoyment, here's the next chapter!

Chapter 2.

How much time could have passed? How long was he knocked out? It could have been only hours, but days as well – he had no idea at all. Probably they were already looking for hem – if it was after Saturday, that is. When (_if?)_ he didn't show up at Sam's, they surely started to search for him. But would they be able to find him? He can't wait for the rescue team, because it might not come at all, and even if they come, they might be late...

Unfortunately, he couldn't see much of his surrounding as the light was turned off. In one aspect it was better this way as his head still hurt and the light would only blind him and make him more dizzy. He was thinking about different ways to escape from here, but he quickly felt got sleepy. He didn't want to sleep in, but his eyes closed on their own will... _How is it said: when you have a concussion it's not really advisable to fall asleep, or what?_

He was woken up by Jack's sickeningly cheerful voice and the sudden brightness as he turned on the light.

"How are we today?"

John just threw at him a cross look but didn't answer.

The murderer had a bottle in one hand and a plastic mug in the other. Now he opened the bottle and poured some water in the mug. John couldn't hold back to swallow visibly. He was thirsty like hell, his throat and mouth was dry as if he were walking in a desert for days.

"Are you thirsty, maybe?" Jack asked and drank with relish. "You have to answer just one question: did you confess in the trial against your father?"

John watched the fluid with longing eyes. What was of more worth, that was the question he had to answer: having an opportunity to gain some of his strength back, and maybe being able to do something... or don't giving up and maintaining his pride. For most people it might be an easy decision, but not for John. For a long time he had nothing, but his pride and it was hard to simply drop old habits.

"Yes." He whispered after a long silence.

He whispered, not because he was afraid or something, but because he couldn't talk louder.

"It wasn't that hard, was it?" Jack stepped closer and gave him the mug, but not before he poured out half of its content on the stone-floor. It wasn't much, really, but John felt, it was the best drink he ever had.

"What was he sentenced for?" Jack asked after he'd finished drinking.

"Instrigation to homicide" he answered after a short hesitation. He guessed, Jack knew it anyway, and maybe this way he can win some time to find a way out.

"But he was released after a few month, wasn't it?"

"If you know everything why are you asking me?"

Maybe it wasn't the best idea to snap at a notorious killer but John couldn't hold back his tongue.

"Hey, why are you so nervous? Sons should be proud of their old men! Although fathers should be proud of their sons as well... Is your father proud of you, Johnny?"

John looked at the wall instead of Jack.

"You don't have to answer, I know he isn't! It's so sad... You know, I could even like you for it. In the past few weeks I realized that we are quite similar..."

"I'm not like you at all."

"Really? We were both mistreated by our parents and we are longing for being appreciation. And we just want to be loved. But unlike you, I realized that we can never achieve this."

John didn't want to listen to this whole bullshit but he could do nothing to close out this madman's voice.

"You have nobody, even your mother didn't care for you..."

"Don't talk about her!"

John would have jumped at him, had he been not chained.

"Why? Are you scared to admit that she died rather than taking the responsibility for you? How many times did you end up in hospital because of the beatings of your father? Did he do anything?"

John felt even colder than before and he found breathing hard. _No, she was ill... O'Doyle made her ill..._

"Don't you have anything to say?" asked Jack with a smile. "I guessed so."

John suddenly glimpsed something, and for a moment he forgot to listen to the murderer's triads. There was a small key on Jack's belt and it looked absolutely like a possible key to his handcuffs...

"I've spent a few weeks in Boston recently."

The young man tensed and looked back at Jack's face, who was even more gleeful now. _He couldn't go this far... _But he obviously did.

"I visited a small pub there... What's its name again? Ah, yes! Red Rose... It's not very original but it's a nice place, anyway. I recognized your father immediately, because you can't even gainsaid that you are close relatives. And you know what? I talked to him, he's not that bad... he got quite friendly when I mentioned what I plan for you!"

It took a lot to behave deliberate but he had to, if he wanted to survive. Talking about his father was the best method to make him irritated and lose his guts but tried to stay calm, nevertheless. After a short silence he answered in a quiet voice.

"You might be right. I want acknowledgment and love, but who doesn't? However in one thing you are very wrong: we are not alike! I'm useful, I'm a good agent, at least in my job I'm appreciated, but what about you?"

Jack stepped closer and examined him with much less happiness on his face.

"You are just a sick bastard...Your desperately in love with Sam but she hates and despises you! You know what? You are not even interesting to her as a criminal! She had some much bigger challenges in her job..."

Jack slapped him. Hard. His head splayed backwards and hit the wall, but he still continued.

"You want to be special, but you aren't! you aren't even cruel enough! Do you think you can cause more pain than my father did?"

Actually he could, but John would have never admitted it. Jack kicked and hit him a few times and then kneeled down and leant so close to him that John could feel his breath on his face. John smiled, however there was nothing to smile about... except the small key he had in his left hand now, and quickly hid in his back-pocket.

Jack with a sudden movement pressed on his broken knee and John screamed out. In the next who-knows-how-much-time only pain existed, until at last he blacked out.

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"Didn't you tell John would be here by six?"

Sam heard Bailey's voice from the living-room. She was not still standing in front of her closet with a typical woman-problem. Should she chose the red dress or the black one?

"What did you said?" she cried back.

Bailey appeared in the door with and looked her over with a rather wistful smile.

"It's ten past six. John's late."

"He's probably stuck in a traffic jam. It's Saturday evening after all."

"Yeah, but the performance won't start later, just for us. By the way, don't you want to put on something?"

"I'm almost ready." And she pulled out the black dress.

In a few moments they were ready to go, only waited for John to arrive in the living-room, joined by Chloe who is obviously impatient.

"When's John coming?" she asked for the third time.

"You should maybe call him" suggested Sam, and Bailey took his cell-phone from his pocket. He held it to his ear for a whole moment and then grimaced.

"He doesn't answer it."

"Maybe he doesn't want to talk while he's driving" guessed Sam.

After ten minutes they tried again, and then two more times. Sam saw that Bailey's expression started to turn worried. Sam knew that she wore the same expression on hers. Chloe looked between the two of them with wide eyes.

"I'll call in whether there was an accident, or something" announced Bailey at seven.

"Do you think, that something happened to John?" asked Chloe quietly when Bailey went out.

"Don't know dear. I hope not, he might just have stopped to help somebody, as well. We mustn't fear the worst immediately..."

But this was hard to explain to Chloe who already lost her father without any real reason. Bailey came back shaking his head agitatedly.

"There were no accidents in the area, and nothing else. I'll go over to him" he said then.

"I'll go with you" Sam told and looked at Chloe. "Put on a jumper and your shoes."

Half an hour later they were at John's place. There they found nothing extraordinary, except that John wasn't there, either. Neither was his car in the garage. Bailey asked the neighbours but they haven't seen him since Wednesday so they weren't much help.

"I'll go in and report him as missing" said Bailey when he came back. He was speaking quietly so that Chloe couldn't hear them. "Go home, I'll call if I can find out something."

"It's Jack." Sam whispered and Bailey's heart ached as he heard the desperation in her voice.

"We can't be sure." He didn't sound to convincing even to his own ears.

"I don't want to lose him..." Sam told with glistening eyes.

"Neither do I. We will find him, Sam. We have to..."

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	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: Sorry for the delay but to appease you, this chapter is much longer, than the previous ones. As always thank you for the reviews. Please continue with them, because they make my day better and really inspire me to write faster. Now, enough of me: read and enjoy! 

Chapter 3.

When Jack came back after a few hours, John was ready. Or as ready as he could be. He didn't know how the hell he would carry out what he had planned, but he would rather die than sit here and listen to this madman. And to be honest he didn't think that if he behaved like a good victim he would live much longer.

Jack was clearly angered by him and needed time to calm. This was shown by his absence. After he had regained consciousness, John opened the handcuffs immediately but put it back on his right wrist so that Jack couldn't see the change if he didn't come to close. He tried to follow how much time went by, and although his timing might not be perfect it were at least two and a half hours. Thinking about escape and having something to concentrate on, helped him to diverge a little bit from the pain. He used to do this when he was a child, and it always worked. However, he suspected that this one was more serious than any of his old injuries.

Then at last he heard the door open. Jack came down the stairs but didn't switch on the light. From the noises and the shadows John could assess that he stopped in the other corner of the dark room. Suddenly the light of the torch was up, blinding him again.

"I know what you were up to" the murderer announced, his cheerful tone coming back. He clearly didn't required an answer as he continued without a pause. "You hoped that I would end your misery, if you annoy me enough. But it won't happen...Let's get back to our little chat!"

He put down the torch that gave an ominous light to the cellar, and sat down opposite his prisoner.

"Who do you think will go to your funeral?"

John didn't answer. He decided that showing himself weaker than he really is, couldn't hurt. So he leant against the wall and opened his eyes only ajar. He tried to look absolutely pitiable - not as if it required a lot of theatrical talent from him, because he felt really like hell.

"I assure you, we can witness it soon" Jack went on. "Oh, sorry... I meant _I will. _You, of course won't be in the state to witness anything. Anyway, I guess Bailey would deliver the speech with all the doublespeak about your sacrifices and responsible behaviour... bullshit. As if you had become an FBI agent to serve the nation! You just wanted to anger your old man, didn't you?"

"Maybe..." John whispered. "And why did you become a serial killer? You wanted to annoy your dear mother, or what?"

Perhaps being so long with a psychotic sharpened his emphatic skills, or he was just lucky, but John could see in this tormentor's eyes that he touched the spot.

But this time Jack didn't get irritated, only his tone became a little bit more threatening.

"You better don't try me! I can make up some nasty things for you before I let you die..."

John smiled at him scornfully.

"Sam will probably cry... but she would cry even for a dead dog, so don't take it personally."

"I think on _your _funeral she would rather laugh..."

"You can't anger me, John. You better spare your strength for later."

"What do you want?"

Jack watched him thoughtfully.

"Good question. But I don't want anything special... don't think more of this than it is. I just want some fun before I drop your corpse somewhere where Samantha can find it. Then she can make up some theories why I did it, and she will maybe feel a little bit guilty and responsible. But it won't last that long... A few months and you will be only another name on the Wall of Heroes. Or is there something like this for FBI agents at all?"

"This starts to be tiring..." John whispered. "Can I have some water?" asked then hoarsely.

Jack smiled and winked conspiratorially.

"I can admit you some if you answer a few questions!"

"Like?"

"What happened to your mother?"

John tensed and suddenly felt cold inside. _No... not this... _But he had no real choice: maybe he wasn't afraid of death, but he didn't want it to happen this way. Even if his time has come today he will die on his own terms and not like a helpless victim.

"She died..."

"Did your father kill her?"

"Yes...no..."

"This wasn't a very definite answer. Could you please explain it more detailed?"

And he did, almost in the same words as he had done it to Sam, only this time he was burning inside with anger. Not only against his father, or himself but more against this smug bastard sitting in front of him.

"Interesting" Jack mused. "So, it was as I guessed. She was a weak bitch who cared only about herself. Sad, sad story..."

John would have torn him apart with his bare hands if he could somehow put his hands on the man in front of him.

"All right" Jack stated after a short silence. "I think you deserved a gratification."

He went up the stairs and then came back with the same bottle and maybe the same plastic mug. John prepared and collected all his strength. To Jack he must have seemed even weaker because the murderer bent closer to gave him the water.

Despite his state, John was fast. He grabbed Jack's arm, gave him a pull, so that the man lost his balance and fell to the knee. John was physically at disadvantage as he could use only his arms, but the surprise was on his side. Before Jack could do anything he punched him in the face. Twice and with all his might. The murderer's face became red immediately with the blood from his broken nose, and it made John smile. And it wasn't a nice one. He quickly clicked the free handcuff on Jack's left wrist.

Every single part of his body hurt, especially his shoulder and leg, and dark spots were bouncing before his eyes, still he pulled himself away from the murderer as far as he could. More accurately to the bottom of the stairs. And then he just lied there, trying to control his breathing – with not too much success, to be honest – and not caring about the outside world.

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"Great, you caught me! And now what?"

The words gave John a start. He totally forgot that he wasn't alone in the room. In the first moment he was afraid that he said out his thoughts loud, because he was really thinking about the same question. _How the hell would he get out of here?_

"Did you know that I graduated as a doctor?" his mad kidnapper asked. The change of events obviously didn't steal his good mood, and despite his still bleeding nose, he felt on top. "I see your symptoms... you are slowly falling into shock. Your blood pressure drops, your pulse is rising, breathing becomes harder and after a while your respiratory system will stop working."

"I wouldn't be so glad about it if I were you" John answered laboriously. "I guess not many people know you are here... if I die, you will rot here."

At last Jack shut up for some time, and John concentrated on the task at hand: somehow managing the stairs. He had to admit to himself that it looked impossible.

He staggered into a sitting position that made his ribs hurt even more, but he didn't care. Instead he studied the stairs. There was a seemingly massive bar on the left side. He could hold on to it and pull himself up grade after grade...stupid idea and not very probable that he could succeed. But did he have anything to lose?

So that was what he did. Actually it took ages to manage the first "step". He moved very carefully, not to hurt his leg more - not as if it made a difference: it throbbed with pain continuously. There were only thirteen steps - he counted it a hundred times, but their number didn't decrease. It didn't help, either that Jack's mute period stopped and he talked constantly without taking a breath.

"... I hear your wheezing even from here. How long do you think you can keep up this? And what for, by the way? ... Do you have anything waiting for you out there? More psychotic killers, more unsolved cases, more lonely nights... By the way, did you ever have a proper relationship, or are you too scared?"

John tried to close out his words, but in his situation it was hard to ignore the only sound in the room. He focused all his concentration on the muscles in his arms. _Just grab the bar and pull_... closer and closer to the door at the top of the stairs.

"...maybe not every woman is like your mother." Jack continued his drabbling. "But maybe they are, who knows? Of course Samantha is different. Isn't it painful to see Bailey be happy with her? You know, I have to admit, that for me it is. I suppose for you it is, as well. Don't you ever ask yourself, why is he better than you?"

John closed his eyes. Only five more steps.

"Shut up...shut up..." he didn't even realize that he was mumbling.

"Oh, am I annoying you? I'm so sorry!"

He wanted to get out of here, as soon as possible. He couldn't bear much longer this stupid idiot. And this doubled his strength. Some time later – he couldn't even guess how much time went by – he was sitting on the top of the stairs in front of the door. And he was staring at it unbelievingly. The door was closed in the middle with a massive tumbler.

Jack laughed.

"Not as if I excepted something like this, but it was a superb idea to put up that bolt..."

John didn't listen to him this time, he was too close to desperation. He was trembling with exhaustion, in one moment he was cold, in the other he was burning and his whole body was bathing in sweat.

He caught the bar with both hands and with a sudden dash he stood up on one leg. Tried to keep his balance and tugged the bolt. It moved a little bit, but the power he used was far from enough. Very far, actually.

John closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He let off the bar and grabbed the latch with both hands. He put all his strength in that one movement as he pulled the fastening. That meant that he couldn't really concentrate on being cautious and when his injured leg touched the floor white pain exploded in it that emitted through his body and into his brain. Despite everything, he didn't let go. He screamed, the fastening loosened and the next moment he spilled through the door. He fell face down, feeling nothing just the acrimonious pain in his leg. He knew that he still screamed but didn't really hear it and knew as well that he could do nothing to change this fact. At some point he wished that he would already black out but the small rational part of his mind must have known that this would be fatal. So he stayed awake even if in a not so conscious state. And then, after a while the pain lessened, and he could look around in the room where he landed. The first thing he glimpsed made him forget all his misery: a telephone in the opposite corner.

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George was the one who answered the phone but everybody was sitting in the same room, around the big table in the command centre. They spent two whole days in here waiting for news – might they be good or bad. But nothing came... until now. They all looked up when George exclaimed excitedly. George knew that all his workmates were worried to death. He saw that Sam, just like Grace vanished time after time and came back with puffy and red eyes. On his part George found the situation more and more desperate. Thus made him even more stunned when he heard the familiar voice on the other end of the line.

"George?"

"John! Is that you?"

"Yes..."

Bailey even jumped and stepped behind George.

"Where is he?" their boss whispered.

"Where are you, John?"

"Don't know... Jack... he kept me in a cellar... can you track the line?"

"Of course, I can... just don't put down, okay?" Then he turned to the others. "He doesn't know where he is... I shall track the signal..."

"Is he okay?" Sam asked.

George shook his head hesitantly.

"I don't think so" even his unprofessional ears registered how weak John's voice sounded.

"I start off" Bailey declared. "You can call me in the car when you know the address."

"I'll go with you" Sam joined him immediately, and already took up her jacket.

George nodded and went back to the phone: "John, I'll give you over to Grace. Talk to her until I find the address..." he gave the receiver over and rushed to his computer to do his job as quick as possible.

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"John? Can you hear me?" Grace asked immediately when she took the receiver.

"Yes."

"Are you injured?" She didn't have to be a doctor to hear that something was wrong.

"Yes..." He didn't say something like _I'm fine, _and this in itself told a lot of his condition.

"What happened? Are you shot?"

"No... He just ran me over..."

"What?" Asked she surprised. "With a car?"

"No, Grace... With a bicycle, what do you think?" he asked sarcastically, but the end of the sentence stifled into a quiet moan.

"Are you okay?" she asked worriedly.

"Yeah..."

"Sorry... Can you describe the place, you are in?"

"There's not much... I guess it's a disused house..." then he trailed off wheezing.

Grace mentally went through the possible injuries, and the list wasn't too promising.

"John? Are you still there?"

There was no answer but she could hear his rugged breathing.

"John!"

"...'m here..."

"All right then. Do you have a head injury?"

"Think so..."

"Were you unconscious?"

"Definitely..." She could almost hear the dry smile in his voice.

"How long?"

"No idea."

"Never mind. Is your head bleeding?"

"No...but my leg... 's broken..."

Grace could see from the corner of her eyes that George found something and was talking to Bailey now.

"Hey, we know the address, Sam and Bailey are on the way!"

There was no reaction to her words.

"John! Stay with me, okay? Are you there?"

"I didn't close the door..." he mumbled.

"Which door?"

"I hope he can't open the handcuffs..."

"Who? Jack? You handcuffed him?"

"...'s stupid..." he muttered and then something else that Grace couldn't make out. She knew that he was raving and it wasn't a good sign at all.

"Hey, John! Please, listen to me!" She was almost shouting to get back his attention.

"...sorry..."

"Can you hear you're shouting..."

"I'm sorry, dear. Can you do me a favour?"

"Sure..."

"Just stay awake, until Sam and Bailey arrive, okay? Don't sleep in!"

"...trying..." But Grace could tell that he was running out of strength, and only a few moments later she heard a distant knocking sound as the receiver fell from his hand.

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Sam and Bailey arrived at the given address in eight minutes that must have been record time. Bailey definitely drove like mad and Sam was surprised that they avoided any accidents. They stopped before the dilapidated house and rushed to the door. It was closed but Bailey kicked it in and they found themselves in a dusty hall with only one door. The door, as they found out led in the only room of the house. It was empty except a table, a cupboard, a telephone...and John.

"Damn!" Bailey exclaimed involuntary and Sam had to agree. John looked terrible and he showed no reaction when they came in.

Bailey was scanning the room, while Sam hurried to their colleague's side. There was a huge puddle of blood around his right leg that was visibly broken at least in three places. His face was also blooded and bruised, just like his hair. Sam feared the worst but then he took a ragged breath and his body twitched. Sam kneeled down and took the receiver that lied on the floor next to John.

"Grace! We are here!"

"How is he?" Grace asked immediately in an almost hysterical tone.

"Bad. He's unconscious."

"I think he's in shock. Try to wake him and if he's still bleeding try to stop it."

Sam put down the phone and did as she was told.

"John! Open your eyes, please! It's me, Sam..." There was no reaction, and Sam looked around to find something which she could stop the bleeding with. There was nothing in the room, so she took off her jacket and pressed it on the wound.

The soft words might have been useless but the pain did the job. John moaned and opened his eyes. Bailey, who was standing by Sam's side, sighed relieved.

"I'll look for Jack" he said quietly and started to the open door, that obviously led to the cellar. A good trail of blood showed that John had come from there too.

Sam looked up: "Be careful."

"Don't worry."

Bailey disappeared downstairs and Sam turned back her attention to John, who was exactly looking through her with unfocused eyes. Sam found it rather terrifying.

"John!"

He blinked and his eyes cleared a little bit.

"Sam...?"

"Yes, it's me." _Where the hell are the paramedics? _But she knew that only a few minutes went by, and that not anybody would risk their life to arrive here in record time. "Are you in pain?" She asked when she saw that John shivered visibly. Not as if she could do anything more to help...

"...don't feel much..." he whispered hoarsely. This wasn't a good sign either, as Sam guessed. However she tried to smile encouragingly despite the huge lump in her throat.

"Just stay with me, okay? A few more minutes and the ambulance will be here..." She held John's hand and felt him squeeze hers slightly but there was no strength in it.

Bailey came back, leading a handcuffed man and Sam couldn't keep herself from staring at the man who haunted her life so long.

"Samantha..." her nemesis said a little bit surprised, but then he gathered himself. "I'm disappointed that it wasn't you who caught me. It seems our agent Grant has still some spirit... I'm wondering how he couldn't do anything to save his mother...maybe he didn't want to..." Sam twitched and looked back at John worriedly. For now she was almost glad to see that he probably couldn't hear a word from the speech. He was fading quickly.

"Take him out of here, please..." she said to Bailey who obeyed without hesitation.

They just vanished when Sam heard the sirens of the ambulance. John was trembling even harder, his eyes were open but distant and unseeing. He mumbled something but Sam couldn't make out the words.

She heard Bailey's voice directing the paramedics inside and a second later two uniformed men rushed in. One of them kneeled immediately at John's side. He checked the pulse and looked at the pupils, examined the head injury and then his legs. Then without taking his eyes from the patient he asked:

"What happened to him?"

"He was... run over by a suspect and then he held him here..." She wasn't surprised by hearing her voice trembling.

"You are from police?"

"FBI."

"Okay, let's take him to the hospital."

The other ambulance man disappeared and came back with the stretcher.

"What's his name?" the older man, who was obviously the senior officer asked.

"John..."

"How long has he been unresponsive?"

"When we arrived he could speak a few words..."

During that they arrived at the ambulance and lifted the stretcher in the car. Sam saw from the corner of her eyes that Bailey was standing beside their car and watching the scene anxious eyes.

"Can I come with?" asked Sam loudly so that Bailey could hear it as well.

"Yes." The paramedic already jumped in, and Sam followed him quickly. The other one took the driver seat and the next moment the sirens started.

The man's professional behaviour helped Sam to calm down a little bit. He talked into the radio, obviously with the hospital, but during that he attached an IV and partly cut off John's trousers on his right leg.

"Unit 41. We have a trauma, multiple open fraction on the right leg. Obscure head injury. Lost a lot of blood."

Sam heard some static noise as the other side was talking.

"Understand. We're there in fifteen minutes."

Then he switched off the radio and turned his full attention toward his patient.

"Hey, John! Can you hear me?"

There was no answer, and John didn't open his eyes, he didn't even move anymore. The paramedic tore his shirt open, and grimaced a little bit when he saw the huge bruises on his chest and abdomen.

"My name's Frank" he said to Sam without looking at her.

"Sam..." she whispered, because she didn't dare to talk louder. She had a sinister feeling, that made her heart freeze.

"C'mon John! Try a little harder." Frank murmured under his nose. He then attached the portable heart monitor, as well and took out an ambubag that he put on his patient's face and started to respirate him.

At last he looked back at Sam.

"Don't worry. We are there in ten minutes."

Actually, those were the longest ten minutes, Sam has ever experienced.

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	4. Chapter 4

Author's note: Sorry for the delay but my computer was practically killed by a virus. I was scared that all my stories were lost, but fortunately they weren't! Now, about this chapter: I'm not really satisfied with it - somehow I had a problem how to finish it - it was hard, and maybe I could have work on it a little more to make it better, but tomorrow I leave the town for a week and I wanted to upload it before that. So enjoy it, and please, if possible leave some reviews for tomorrow, to make my next (not so easy) week better!

Chapter 4.

Sam was staring into the trauma-room through the closed glass-door. Her sight was blurry because of the tears in her eyes but she still could see the scene clearly. Two doctors and two nurses were working hard in there. Sam was left outside when they arrived, and now she was compelled to just stand here and watch.

Frank had said her that everything would be alright but soon after his encouraging words John crashed. The paramedic shocked his heart twice in ambulance and the doctors three times here in the hospital. Now he was back, but Sam still could see the tensed movements and the grim concentration on the doctors' face.

One of the nurses looked up and their eyes met. The nurse told something to the male doctor and then came out.

"I'll see you to the waiting room…" she suggested.

"I'd rather stay here."

"There's no use" she said with a symphatethic smile. "It will take a while until they can take him up to the operation room and the surgery will surely take another few hours."

Sam looked at the door of the trauma room, then at the nurse again and nodded hesitantly.

"Are you his wife?" the nurse asked. She was about Sam's age, but had dark hair, dark eyes and a complexion that sold his Spanish ancestors away.

"No, we work together… he's a good friend…"

"I see. Let's go, you can have a coffee there, as well!"

Sam didn't feel like having a coffee right now, her adrenaline level was up in the skies, but she accepted the hot drink, the nurse bought her all the same. However her trembling hands could barely hold the plastic glass.

"How is he?" she asked when the other woman led her to the plastic chairs.

"It's a doctor's duty to inform the relatives" she answered and Sam could tell that it was an automatic response that she clearly used quite often.

"I'm not a relative…" the nurse smiled apologetically and despite herself Sam smiled back. "I'm sure you have seen many things here… will he survive?" she wasn't sure that she wanted to hear the answer, but she had to ask.

"I won't lie… he doesn't look good, but we have the best doctors, and he's young…"

"Yes, he is…" _Too young to die… "_and he's strong…" She whispered rather to herself.

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About one and a half hours later, Sam was in another waiting room, two stairs above, joined by Grace and George. Bailey was still in the office doing the necessary protocol to take Jack into custody. They were sitting in silence. The emergency doctor didn't tell much, only that they took John to surgery and then he vanished to try to save somebody else and a nurse escorted her to the surgery's waiting room. Her two workmates joined her there.

All three of them were nervous like hell, because in one way or another they all knew how severe the situation was. Sam was there, she saw John. Grace talked to him and was a doctor. And George… well, George could see the two women and it was enough to give him the chills.

"He will get through this…" George said when he couldn't stand the silence any longer.

Sam looked up from her hands and the handkerchief she was screwing.

"I'm not so sure about it…" she admitted loudly what was choking her in the last hours.

"He's strong…" Grace repeated the words Sam had said before to the nurse. "And he's too stubborn to die. Actually he's the most obstinate man I've ever met. Did you hear about the time when he joined the team?"

Sam shook her head. They've been talking about a lot of things lately, but rarely about work.

"It was a little bit more than four years ago, just a few months after Bailey had got the task to establish a VCTF team in Atlanta. We worked on a case here in the city together with the Atlanta PD and the captain gave John to our help."

"First I thought 'Oh, my god! Not another arrogant macho-cop!' But I recognized how wrong I was. He was very perceptive and helped us a lot, and he didn't have that this-is-my-town-and-hate-the-FBI-attitude. When we finished Bailey asked him whether he has ever thought about trying the FBI training. He just smiled, but a few months later Bailey found out that he followed his advice, indeed. John didn't know it, but Bailey inquired about his progress at Quantico. And after the graduation he asked him to the team. However after he had joined us, Bailey was very hard to him…"

"Grace means that he let John work like a dog" put in George. "He was always first in, and left as last. Sometimes I was wondering if had been sleeping at all! In the end I already thought he would give it up and quit…"

"Oh, I knew he wouldn't" cut in Grace. "He never complained, not once."

Sam smiled sadly. This was so much like John… And it was good that she heard Grace and George talk about him like this. Actually, she found that it felt good to be distracted a little bit from her grave thoughts.

"Then, after about six months, there was this case… Bailey and John travelled to Montana, just the two of them, to some far-away village. By the time they came back, something changed."

"What happened?"

This time George answered.

"They never talked about it, but Grace is right. They both changed somehow… they got closer during that two weeks. However they've been arguing a lot since then, as well."

"That, you don't have to tell me!"

They shared a rather sad smile. Sam looked at the clock and saw that almost five hours went by since they arrived with the ambulance. She was tired and as it stood they won't leave soon.

"I'll call Chloe… and bring some more coffee…

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Nine hours and forty-two minutes… Bailey arrived about half an hour ago and informed the others that Jack was closed in safe and secure and that somebody from the district attorney's office was already working on the accusation. He didn't even ask how John was, it was enough too look at his people. He just sat down next to Sam and held her hand tightly.

Another hour later at last a doctor appeared in the waiting room.

"Are you here for Mr. Grant?" he asked as soon as he stepped inside and they jumped as one.

"Yes" it was somehow natural that Bailey took the lead. "How is he?"

"He is out of surgery and is being taken to the ICU." Before anybody could ask any questions, he continued. "However, I have to tell you that he isn't out of the woods yet. Nurse Valdez told me that he has no family members here, is this correct?"

Bailey nodded.

"I suggest you to inform his family..."

"I don't think this is possible" intervened Sam, what earned her a slightly surprised look from the doctor, but he went on.

"In this case… Well, Mr. Grant suffered quite severe injuries. His state is still critical. He lost too much blood, his blood pressure fell to almost fatal stages and we had to intubate, because the spontaneous respiration was far from satisfying. He suffered multiple fracture on the right leg that was left without treatment too long, through which there are already signs of infection. He developed a massive fever and these factures caused the shock he is in at the moment. These are the most serious problems. Above these he has two broken ribs, a concussion, lot of bruises and articulation-injury in his right shoulder."

"But will he live?" Bailey asked the question, they all wanted to hear the answer for.

"To be honest: I don't know. It's obvious that his body is fighting, but the next 24 hours will be critical. And there's one more thing you should know, especially if he has no family. If things turn worse with the infection, we have to take more radical interventions into account. He probably won't be in the state to decide, so one of you will have to sign the admission."

"You are talking about amputation." Grace said quietly.

"Yes, I'm sorry, but the probability stands. Now, you can see him, but only one of you at a time and only for a few minutes."

"Could I go first?" Sam asked immediately, and she felt compelled to explain. "I have to see that he's still alive. Damn… seeing him in the ambulance… I really thought, that…"

"It's okay" said Grace, as the two men seemed too shaken to tell a word. "Just go, we'll wait here…"

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So, Sam followed the doctor to the ICU that was quiet and peaceful but in a way still a sinister place. In the room there were three beds and a nurse was sitting next to the door at a desk writing something. But Sam didn't really recognized anything, she couldn't take off her eyes of John, lying in the bed and surrounded by all kinds of machines.

The doctor went to the bedside and checked on his patient.

"You can come closer, if you want."

Sam stepped closer indeed and she took John's hand. It was warm and however she knew it must have been caused by the fever, somehow she still was relieved, because it meant that he was alive.

"Hey, John" she whispered. "We are all here, and waiting for you to wake up. We love you, so you have to strain yourself and heal…"

There was not much to say, and Sam guessed that most people whose loved ones were here in the ICU told the same words. _Please, be okay! We need you… _And it was very true: he loved John and wanted him to live the life he deserved. And she will help him, even if he doesn't want it!

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It was late night when Bailey and Sam arrived at the fire-house.

"Do you stay?" asked Sam when they got out of the car.

"Do you want me to? Aren't you tired?"

"I am. But I don't want to be alone…" Her eyes were still red and puffy but she could barely keep them open. They have some exhausting days after them.

They went up and were welcomed by one of the agents who guarded the house and today they played the role of the babysitter as well.

"Was everything all right?" asked Bailey and the agent nodded.

"Chloe is sleeping. She wanted to wait for you but about two hours ago she wasn't able to stay awake anymore."

"I'll go to see her." Told Sam and dropped her bag and bloody jacket on the coat-rack and rushed to the children's room.

Chloe was sleeping indeed, but as soon as Sam bent over her and put the blanket back in place she startled awake and asked sleepily.

"Mum…?"

"Yes, dear. It's me, I'm home."

"What happened?" she asked more awake.

"We found John…"

Chloe sat up immediately and switched on the lamp next to her bed. When she saw her mother's tear-stained eyes her face sank straight away.

"Is he…?"

"No, he isn't dead" assured Sam quickly. "He's in the hospital, but … he was injured badly."

"Can I visit him?" asked Chloe enthusiastically.

"Not yet. He's to sick to have many visitors, maybe in a few days…"

"It was the bad man, wasn't it? That who killed dad…"

Sam's heart wrenched with pain looking at her little daughter. No child deserved to know about such things in such a young age, but she couldn't change what had already happened.

"Yes. But we caught him this time. We don't have to be scared of him anymore."

"Really?" her girl asked incredulously.

"Yes, but now please go back to sleep…"

"Okay, mum…"

Sam switched off the lamp kissed Chloe on her forehead and covered her gently then quietly slipped out of the room.

The agents were never to see, only Bailey was sitting on the couch in the living-room. He helped himself to scotch and put out another glass for Sam as well.

"Can I pour you one?" he asked when he glimpsed Sam.

"I think I could bear one."

They sat in silence for a few minute sipping at their drinks.

"I hate this" revealed Sam after a while.

"I know…"

"No, I mean Jack… he always wanted me. Not you, or other FBI people, just me. It was because of me, that he went after you as well."

"But you know that it isn't your fault?"

"No… yes… I mean I know it's not my fault in the average sense of the word, but it still happened because of me…"

"It was because of me as well… Jack talked a lot during the way the central… He became interested in John, because John saved me the last time. He damaged that bastard's sick game…"

"We are a good couple, aren't we?" Sam smiled sadly, and he leant against Bailey's chest.

"Oh, you can bet on it" He whispered caressing her hair gently.

"I just hope that he will be able to get over this…"

"He will. I know."

"I'm still scared. And the doctor… he talked about amputation… I don't think he could bear it…"

"It won't happen Sam! We have to think positively!"

"It's just, we might have to decide and want to make the best decision for him, if it comes to that part."

"Don't analyze, just follow your instincts." Bailey told and Sam smiled again.

"It's hard to get rid of old habits…"

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In the next few days they took turns at John's bedside, but there was not much change in his condition. However, the doctors said that his improvement was promising. Grace strengthened their words and said that in cases like this doctors usually see it as improvement when the patient's condition doesn't go worse. However his fever started to sink and Doctor Conroy dropped the amputation-issue. He told that John had a good chance at full recovery, but they still waited on him to wake up.

Then, on the fifth day late in the afternoon, Bailey was sitting in the uncomfortable plastic chair. He rushed here after work to let Grace go home to her family. He was reading loud from the newspaper, as the doctor told them that it can use if John hears them talking to him. The article was interesting indeed, as it was about the capture of Jack – and it mentioned John as well. Bailey had no idea how the journalist found out about the circumstances – he hadn't told a word to the media about the case that was for sure! – and Bailey wasn't sure whether John would be happy to see his name on the front page.

Bailey just finished the article and put down the paper when John suddenly stirred on the bed. It was hard to see is face properly thanks to the tube in his mouth as he was still on vent, but Bailey bent closer and saw that his eyelids fluttered, then opened halfway. Bailey was already moving and calling for a nurse or doctor. Dr. Conroy, who operated on John, was fortunately in today and was there in two minutes. By that time, John was making more frequent movements and was making some choking sounds as he tried to breathe on his own through the vent.

"You were right. He's waking up, indeed" commented the doctor after he had examined John. "It's okay…" he was talking to his patient now, who became a little bit more egitated by the second. "John, open your eyes. Yes, good so…"

Bailey was close enough to see everything, and the next moment he could see the confused and little bit dizzy blue eyes looking at them. Then John tried to look around but with all the machines and in his weakened state he barely managed. He obviously didn't know what happened and where he was, that was shown by the increasing heart-rate on the monitors, as well.

"Calm down" Doctor Conroy intervened immediately. "You are in a hospital. You were injured but now it's everything all right… And don't try to talk! There's a tube in your throat that helps you breathing."

John's eyes became clearer and they turned to Bailey who was standing just behind the doctor. There were a lot of questions in his eyes and a lot of understanding.

"We found you…and Jack. He's in custody. You managed it, John."

His young workmate seemed to be relieved. During this 'conversation' a nurse joined them as well, and Doctor Conroy checked the different monitors.

"I guess we can take you from the vent now" he concluded and with the help of the nurse, so he did. When the tube was out, John coughed dryly and painfully. Bailey had his own experiences with broken ribs and knew that coughing isn't very pleasant with them.

"I'll have to check you properly" the doctor told John, then turned to Bailey, who understood it and was already on his way out.

"I'd better make some phone-calls then."

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Only half an hour later the whole team gathered in front of the ICU room.

"Is he really awake?" Sam asked for what seemed to be the hundredth time, but she clearly didn't dare to believe it so easily.

"Yes, he is. Doctor Conroy makes an examination right now, I don't think it will take long…"

As if he had wanted to confirm his words, Doctor Conroy came out.

"He is fully awake and clear-headed. As far as I can establish, he remembers what happened to him and he doesn't seem to be traumatized. You can see him now, but he's still tired and weak so please don't impose him too much." And with that he opened the door for them.

John's bed was lifted a little bit, so he at least could see them when they came in. He was pale and looked exhausted, there were dark circles under his eyes, not to mention the bruises on his face, but Sam still felt relieved.

"Hey, nobody is working?" he asked in a hoarse and quiet voice that was of course caused by the tube.

"I'm glad you haven't lost your humour" said Bailey. "Actually we don't work because of you. We were all worried to death… obviously without a reason."

"Don't scare us like this anymore" added Grace more seriously.

"And don't climb stairs with a broken leg" George warned him.

"Please, I've only regained consciousness" John exclaimed and smiled slightly.

"How are you?" asked Grace and squeezed his hand.

"Dizzy… I think I could sleep through a week…"

"It's because of the medication, it's natural. So we better get going…" said Grace.

"I'm not so tired…" but he already was blinking drowsily.

"Yeah, I see. Just rest."

They all said good-bye, but Sam remained back for a moment.

"You know what you did?"

"No." He could hardly keep his eyes open, but Sam wanted to tell him this.

"You caught Jack… I just wanted to thank you."

"I should thank you…" he whispered already half asleep.

"Why?" There was no answer, so Sam leant over him and stroked his forehead.

Sam thought that John had already fallen asleep so she was surprised when after a moment he answered her earlier question.

"Because you care for me…" he mumbled, clearly enough for Sam to understand.

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Sam found John sitting in his bed and reading some magazine absent-mindedly. Four more days went by and Sam visited him every day. The improvement he made was almost incredible for her. He was still pale and weak and as Sam guessed quite in pain but he looked much better now and Doctor Conroy promised him to begin with physicotherapy in a few days, considering that his fever wouldn't go up again.

"I didn't know you are interested in make-up…" she commented which made John look up and smile.

"I'm not, but I read everything. There's nothing more boring than lying in hospital."

"You should take more care about yourself… maybe should avoid being injured so often…"

"That I would gladly promise, only this usually isn't my choice."

"But seriously John, last time I couldn't finish what I wanted to tell you…"

"Because I slept in…" he smiled sheepishly.

"Yes, but never mind…" her eyes went absolutely serious. "I wanted to thank you…"

"You don't have to."

"Yes, I have. You saved us from him, and you almost died."

"But I didn't."

"Fortunately. So, thank you."

"Well… you're welcome" he clearly felt uncomfortable, so Sam quickly changed the subject. She didn't want to put John in an awkward situation, but she wanted him to know how thankful she was.

"Chloe sends you her best wishes" John smiled again. "She wanted to come in, but I thought you are not up to that yet."

"You might be right…"

"But she sent you something" she pulled out a book from her bag. "Alice in Wonderland… interesting choice!"

John laughed and then winced with pain.

"She was gushing about it the whole time when I was looking after her and she didn't want to believe that I've never read it… I guess now I can make up this deficiency."

"Yes, sure. And how are you?"

He shrugged, only with his left shoulder as the right one was in a swing.

"Fine."

"Grace told me that you still have a temperature."

"It's nothing."

"And she also told that you didn't want painkillers anymore…"

"Did you decide to mother me together?" he asked but Sam could tell that he wasn't really irritated.

"Actually, yes! You can't play with this, John… did the doctor tell you how close you were to lose your leg…?"

"If you want to know, he reminds me of that every day. Not to mention Nurse Valdez…As if I did it on purpose…" he grumbled under his nose, which made Sam smile.

"You are a terrible patient, you know."

"They will let me out sooner this way!"

"So, that's your plan?"

"Definitely."

"But you don't want to rush things, do you?" Sam asked more seriously. "You won't come back to work, just because you are bored?"

John sighed theatrical.

"No, I won't" he answered then after short hesitation. "Look Sam, I'm not some kind of crazy masochist, I don't enjoy being injured, especially not this." He waved at his leg.

"I didn't say you do. But you are…impatient. And this wasn't just a physical trauma… I know that you probably need some more time, but you will have to talk about it sooner or later. At latest during the process."

This time his sigh was more honest. Because they were back at the same topic again, and he knew that Sam wouldn't let it be. However he thought that talking didn't change matters at all. And during the process they won't ask him about his emotions and thoughts, only about facts, not like Sam.

"He couldn't manipulate me… or my emotions. You don't have to worry." And it wasn't a lie, at least not fully. "He talked a lot of crap, I only remember half of it…"

"Honestly?"

"Yes."

Somehow he had the feeling that Sam didn't really believe him. But the truth was that he rather wanted to forget this whole thing, especially the things Jack told him… He wanted to start PT, get out of this hospital as soon as possible, and go back to work. And he will do it soon. He simply wanted his normal life back… which maybe wasn't so normal as he liked to pretend, but was still his own.

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End file.
